“Assuming they can be cut,” General Jackson said grimly. “I’ve fought the Leviathan before, and while I was able to damage him, he always healed immediately. The thing above us is infinitely bigger and stronger than the shadow we faced in Reclamation Land. He may not be vulnerable at all now.”
“I bet he’s vulnerable to dragon fire,” Amelia said with a smoky grin. “I’ve never fought a Nameless End, but until he’s big enough to haul the rest of himself in through the barrier, that thing is ninety-nine point nine percent Algonquin. That makes him spirit magic, and I know for a fact that spirits burn.”
“It’s true,” Svena said cruelly. “I’ve sent several back to their domains myself. They always burn so prettily.” She looked up through the hole in the Skyways where one of the Leviathan’s tentacles was passing overhead. “I could burn that.”
“But could you burn enough?” Chelsie asked. “Julius just said the Leviathan was the size of the entire sky. Given the number of tentacles I’ve already seen above us, we’re talking about thousands of targets spread out over hundreds, maybe thousands of square miles. That’s too much even for you, White Witch.”
Svena growled deep in her throat at the implied weakness, and Julius quickly jumped in. “We don’t have to get all the tentacles. Again, we’re just trying to slow him down, not cut him off entirely, and we don’t have to do it with only the dragons we have here.” He turned to the Qilin. “You said your clan was already on its way, and Fredrick can bring in the rest of the Heartstrikers with his Fang. That’s a lot of dragons if we all work together. More than enough to keep the Leviathan from drinking the last of Algonquin long enough for me to get a chance to talk to her.”
“Which I still don’t think will work,” General Jackson said. “I like the idea of burning tentacles to buy time, but the end goal of your operation is fundamentally flawed. We could buy you a year, and it still wouldn’t make a difference, because no matter what you say, Algonquin will not listen.”
“How do you know that?” Julius demanded.
“Because Algonquin never listens.”
The sudden booming voice made Marci jump. She hadn’t even heard him coming in, but Raven was suddenly right on top of them. The true Raven, landing on the muddy ground beside them in all his huge, feathered glory. In this form, his head rose even taller than the Black Reach, and his flight feathers were as long as Marci’s leg, each one shining with a black rainbow sheen like oil on water. He actually looked like a god for once, but his magnificence was undermined by the very mortal look of terror in his black eyes.
“I take it things on the other side didn’t go well,” General Jackson said grimly.
“They didn’t go at all,” Raven replied, shaking his huge head. “Algonquin’s not in her vessel.”
“What?” Marci cried. “But that’s impossible. Spirits are defined by their vessels. It’s what gives you guys your shape. How can she not be there?”
“I have no idea,” the spirit said. “But I know Algonquin’s shores below the Sea of Magic almost as well as I know my own, and she’s not there. Nothing was, except that thing’s vile tentacles.”
“Wait,” Amelia said, her voice shaking. “You’re saying he’s got tentacles inside a spirit vessel? As in at the bottom of the Sea of Magic?”
“He’s got tentacles everywhere. The other side’s filthy with them, and that’s not the worst of it.” The Raven Spirit swung his huge beak toward Julius. “I heard your plan through my Emily’s ears. Your idea of talking to Algonquin is utter rubbish. She’s never listened to anyone who says things she doesn’t want to hear. She’s certainly not going to start with a dragon. Not even you, Julius Heartstriker. I am well aware of your reputation for turning enemies into allies, but this is beyond even your powers. In case her wholesale slaughter of your kind a few days ago in the DFZ wasn’t clue enough, Algonquin hates dragons only slightly less than she hates Mortal Spirits. Even if you could somehow miraculously push through that millennia-old resentment, it wouldn’t matter, because you can’t talk to her. Not where she is.”
“Where is she?” Julius asked.
Marci was wondering the exact same thing. She still didn’t buy Raven’s story about Algonquin not being in her vessel. Spirits were always in their vessels. The hollows at the bottom of the Sea of Magic were the cups that held the magic that made them sentient. Even during the drought, they’d been in there, asleep. Algonquin’s vessel was the outline of her soul, as much a part of her as her water. If she wasn’t inside, where else could she be?
“There,” Raven said, looking up at the darkness that filled the sky. “The Leviathan isn’t just consuming her lakes. He’s consumed her. She’s withdrawn completely inside him, and there’s no way we’re getting her out.”
“There has to be a way.”
“Not without getting eaten yourself,” Raven said. “I know. I just tried. Why do you think I’m in this shape?” He lifted his massive head. “When I realized what had happened, I tried to bash my way inside, but he’s armored himself in Algonquin’s magic.”
“Then you should step aside and let someone bigger try bashing,” Amelia suggested.
“It’s not just a problem of power,” Raven snapped. “Out here, the Leviathan can’t eat us until he’s finished off Algonquin and gotten big enough to fend off the planar defenses, but the inside of his shell is his turf. It’s like being in a spirit’s vessel. He controls everything within his own domain, which means he can eat you at any time without worrying about tipping his hand to the rest of the plane, and as I just learned, his teeth are very sharp.”
Raven lifted his wing, showing them the huge chunk that had been bitten out of the top. “That’s why your plan isn’t going to work,” he went on, turning back to Julius. “The Leviathan might not be done sucking up her water, but Algonquin’s finished. She’s not technically dead yet because of the way spirits work, but she’s buried herself so deep inside her End that she might as well be. Even if you could somehow beat your way to her, the Leviathan would devour you before you could say a word.”
Julius’s face crumpled, and Marci’s heart went out to him. “It was a good plan,” she whispered, reaching out to squeeze his hand.
“Parts of it are still a good plan,” Amelia said. “I was never on board with talking to Algonquin, but burning tentacles is still very much on the table.”
“Agreed,” said General Jackson. “We all die the moment the Leviathan finishes off what’s left of Algonquin’s water, so slowing the draining of the lakes should be our number-one priority. I’ve already got every military jet in North America on standby. Add in Heartstriker and the Golden Empire, and we should have enough air supremacy to stop those tentacles cold.”